Sometimes when your canvas is your front yard it's hard to avoid interacting with people. And, in a small town like ours, where the street I live on is a local cut-through route, it's pretty much a given that someone you know - or someone you don't - will engage you. So as I found myself with knees and elbows firmly planted in compost and my lens tight on the tiny crocuses pushing toward the sun I wasn't entirely surprised to hear a voice beside me.

"What are those?"

I kept shooting, but tried to be polite, replying "Crocuses - the first flowers of spring!"

I could see the shoes in my peripheral vision. He stood and watched as I struggled to hold my lens still in the soft breeze.

After a while he said, "I guess you can get some good pictures with that."

"I hope so!" I enthused, as I wiggled to get a little better alignment.

Still the shoes in my peripheral vision.

Finally I took a break and looked up. Smiling, I said, "It's a lovely day, isn't it?"

He waivered, obviously well-lubricated, then offered me a smile and an extra large pair of used gardening gloves.

"I can see you're a gardener. You could probably get more use out of these than I will."

"Thanks," I said, as I took the offering.